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On the corner of Cary and Belmont this morning, under the awning of an abandoned building that once was a store selling gowns and shawls made of witches skin and frog bladders, a wee wizened man stood getting DOWN on his harmonica. And the sun had just come up, there were no cars, the sky was just so blue, and he was just a-wailin'. I had made it about another block and a half by the time he finished his song, but applauded from there. I thought he was fantastic. Might get up in the morning and pop by that corner to see what act has been booked for Monday.

The fair.

The tent full of pigs featuring a ring of fascinated/terrified humans surrounding a particular pen o' pigs that were ANGRY and making the most unholy noises I've ever heard from something that was alive. Just furious. For no apparent reason. Kept it up for a solid twenty minutes.

Pigs sleep on their sides with their legs sticking straight out to the side in the air. Look dead.

The tents of bunnies. My brother and I (surprise to me) share a penchant for giggling when we come upon a particularly round bunny with particularly round eyes and miniscule stunted ears.

The enormous bunnies that more resembled station wagon sized fur bathmats. DO NOT TOUCH said the sign on these important bunnies.

Please.

The demolition derby. I didn't know that I would like that, but I was squalling and hollering right along with the pack. One of the contending vehicles was an old, old car that looked as though it wouldn't go at all and had a plastic mold of a Canada goose affixed to the roof. Margaret and I immediately decide to be staunch supporters of this car.

And it won.

And after it won, and there were flames shooting out of the bottom of the car and smoke permeating the sky all the way to Charleston, the driver of the car squirmed free of the vehicle, climbed atop the hood, plucked the goose from the roof, put it on his head and started dancing.

I developed a hot scratchy crush at once.

Ate funnel cake. Wanted a turkey leg, an elephant ear, a hot dog, a corn dog, an ice cream, a chocolate covered banana, an iced tea, a root bear, I could go on.

I have thusly decided that the fair would be quite a stellar date. And will need to find a date who is loaded to take me there and feed me appropriately.

Perhaps most importantly, the pig races.

Scott and I were a little late to this event, having been stuck chortling and cooing over the ducklings and the newly hatched chick with it's left leg stuck in the radiator grid.

But this event featured a sawdust/straw track, throngs of squealing people, a pretty great old man serving as pig-wrangler, and a perky admirably energetic and devoted girl serving as emcee. Talked FAST. And with great energy and clarity.

The first couple of rounds of pigs came out, got loaded up into their gates, and then booked it around the track at a pretty respectable trot en route to receive their cookies at the finish line.

(Note: it was not lost on me that hogs and Audras both will race for cookies.)

Then the much hyped final group of pigs was to be brought out. They were heralded as the fastest, the most exciting pigs of the entire fair.

The tent flap opens, heavy, funky club techno is pumped loudly into the tent.

We see nothing. All of the other pigs have come tearing in and begun rooting around in the straw with great gusto.

Then-- slowly, inch by inch, the head, and then shoulders.... of the pigs appear.

These pigs are enormous hooved goiters.

Racing pot-bellied pigs.

Do not miss this in your life.

The computer is about to lose battery.

So perhaps more details to follow.

But the giant swings- that was heaven. Music so loud I could yell and not hear myself, the wind so cold and fast, arching my back over the back of my seat and looking up at the spinning tilting flashing roof of the ride. And all the lights spread out over the whole carnival.

LOVE.

Shower.

Kill Betty.